


Holiday

by aMantaRay



Series: aMantaRay's Thrantovember [21]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Force Sensitivity (Star Wars), Holidays, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Thanksgiving, Thrantovember (Star Wars), Ysalamiri (Star Wars), discussions, prisoners of the rebels, sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aMantaRay/pseuds/aMantaRay
Summary: Eli glanced up as the door hissed open, keeping his face impassive as he met the bright blue gaze of the young Jedi. “Evenin’,” he murmured, arms crossing comfortably over his chest.Ezra nodded slightly, stepping inside, tray in his hands. “Hey, Lieutenant Commander. How are you? Considering the circumstances, I mean.”Eli, still a prisoner of the rebels, speaks with Ezra about Grey's force sensitivity.--Challenge is from queenie-chi-cosplay on tumblr.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Series: aMantaRay's Thrantovember [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001592
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Day 21.
> 
> Enjoy.

Eli sat with his back to the metal wall of his cell, the reality being that it wasn’t much more than just a converted supply closet on one of the rebel’s seemingly _ancient_ ships. He let out a soft sigh, pushing himself up to stand. If he was correct - which he always was when it came it numbers - today was the Lysatran Thanksgiving holiday. 

And here he was. 

On a rebel’s piece of _sky trash_. 

Without his family. 

He paced, rubbing at his wrists where the binders had been rubbing, doing a lap before stopping. Eli leaned back against the wall, the cool metal grounding him as he let his eyes slide shut, thoughts drifting toward his family. 

Grey was safe. If nothing else, that’s what was important. For the time being, Thrawn was safe as well. His small family meant the world to him. 

He spent the days on the bridge with his partner, Grey following him around, asking hundreds of questions. When the situation grew serious, the toddler knew when to keep quiet, staying seated in his papa’s command chair, Puddle or his ysalamir stuffed animal held tightly in his arms. 

He loved their shore leave visits home to Lysatra, visiting his own parents, and wherever else Thrawn thought was suitable for a vacation. Of course, art museums were a must. 

He just hoped Thrawn gave Grey his Thanksgiving feast regardless of his presence. 

Eli glanced up as the door hissed open, keeping his face impassive as he met the bright blue gaze of the young Jedi. “Evenin’,” he murmured, arms crossing comfortably over his chest. 

Ezra nodded slightly, stepping inside, tray in his hands. “Hey, Lieutenant Commander. How are you? Considering the circumstances, I mean.” 

The human shrugged. “It’s a bit cold in here, if you ask me.” He sat down on the edge of a crate that had been shoved up against the wall. “How are you...Commander, also, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” He stepped closer, hesitated before offering the tray. “I thought I’d bring you something a little warmer than normal military rations. It’s Lothal’s Thanksgiving Day today.” He set it down on a crate beside him. 

“Lothal’s? Really?” He pulled a foot up onto the crate, arm wrapped around his knee loosely as he examined the plate of food curiously. “It’s Lysatra’s today too.” 

Ezra sat across from him, pulling both legs up to sit cross legged. “You’re from wild space then? I thought I recognized your accent.” 

Eli gave a slight smile, forking a bit of the cooked bird. “I am. I appreciate the meal, thank you.”

“Of course. I...I also came to speak with you about your son.” He watched his face, encouraged to continue as the imperial took another bite. “I’m sure you’re well aware that I’m a Jedi.”

He inclined his head. 

Ezra pulled at his collar. “Your son, Grey? He’s force sensitive. I wasn’t certain I should say anything, because the empire hates people like us, but...he’s your son. If you really loved him - which it seems like you do - you wouldn’t turn him in.”

“Grey did mention that you’d sensed it.” He reached for the small glass, sipping at the wine. “You’re certain?”

“I am. It’s quite strong, actually. Have you never witnessed anything from him? Nothing, say...floating?” He asked curiously, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Eli shook his head, setting the fork aside once the meal was gone. “I haven’t.” His brow furrowed as he thought, letting his feet settle on the floor as leaned forward against his thighs. “To my knowledge, Thrawn or Commodore Faro haven’t noticed anything either.”

Ezra frowned. “That’s strange. He was playing with Zeb and me easily enough. We were lifting colored little balls.” He thought for a while longer. “...Who’s Puddle? He asked about him a lot. We asked who he was, and Grey just kept repeating ‘orange’.” 

“Orange?” He chuckled, steepling his fingers between his thighs. “Puddle’s our ysalamir. An orange, four eyed lizard. They’re native to Myrkr.”

His eyes grew wide with understanding. “Oh. I see.” Ezra shifted in his seat, settling his hand against his chin, much like Kanan had used to. “I’ve never come in contact with one, but from my understanding, ysalamiri have an unconscious ability to repel the force. It’s sort of like a bubble. If you’re close enough to them, nothing can use the force at all around them.”

Eli settled the tips of his pointer fingers against his lower lip. “So, if Puddle’s been with Grey most of his life, you’re sayin’ he could’ve been inside Puddle’s no force bubble this whole time? And his force abilities would’ve been...blocked?”

Ezra nodded. 

“Kriff…” he mumbled, tapping his thumbs together, gaze on the floor in front of him, sightlessly thinking. “...I suppose the easiest thing to do right now is to just make sure he’s got Puddle nearby all the time.”

“Commander Vanto, Grey needs a teacher.” Ezra met his gaze again, settling his hands on the edge of his crate. 

Eli tilted his head. “What? And send him to you? Not gonna happen. I don’t want that, and my partner won’t allow that to happen. I promise you.” He leaned back against his hands. “Thrawn’s already massively unhappy with you rebels. Unless you missed that the last time he was here.”

Ezra frowned. “No, we didn’t miss that. I could help your son, Vanto.” He leaned forward, voice hushed as if he were afraid of being overheard. “Don’t you want that?”

“I think Grey will be fine with me and Thrawn watching over him,” Eli spoke firmly, keeping his gaze on the Jedi’s. “I’m not giving my son up to a child, and certainly not to the other side of the war.”

The Jedi stood, opened his mouth as if to say something, sighed and stepped back. “Happy Thanksgiving to you.” He murmured, taking the empty tray and leaving the room, not waiting for a response. 

Eli watched his back, waiting until he was gone before his own posture sagged, leaning back, once again, against the cold wall behind him. He really hoped he’d made the right decision for his son. He just...wanted to go home. 


End file.
